


Nothing

by Everydayishark



Series: Sharks Shine Forever [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Shine Forever, kihyuk rise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 17:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everydayishark/pseuds/Everydayishark
Summary: He knows it is him. He knows these are his hands, his legs, his body, yet it doesn’tfeellike him. Instead, he feels nothing at all. It’s not a scary nothing. It’s a comfortable nothing. It’s a rather peaceful nothing. It’s soft and round, bright but not too bright, quiet but not too quiet.Tranquility, he supposes, is what he would call it. (Minhyuk would surely laugh at him, describing near-death like some sort of yoga experience.)





	Nothing

A distance voice in a sea of static.

He recognizes his name, somewhere, vaguely.

Softly, at first, but growing in urgency. He hears despair in the voice— he absently wonders why, but he can’t seem to understand what he is supposed to do with it. With this.

He knows it is him. He knows these are his hands, his legs, his body, yet it doesn’t _feel_ like him. Instead, he feels nothing at all. It’s not a scary nothing. It’s a comfortable nothing. It’s a rather peaceful nothing. It’s soft and round, bright but not too bright, quiet but not too quiet.

Tranquility, he supposes, is what he would call it. (Minhyuk would surely laugh at him, describing near-death like some sort of yoga experience.)

Something is pulling at him from far away. Kihyun doesn’t want to leave—the nothing feels safe and warm and soft. (Out there is pain and smoke and fire, creased metal and singed tires.)

He remotely remembers the pain, blood and broken glass everywhere. He remembers looking at Minhyuk, folded over the steering wheel, unsure if he’s unconscious or dead or somewhere in between. He remembers feeling panicked and trapped, hanging uselessly upside down from his seatbelt as the smoke fills up his lungs.

He remembers slipping away.

He remembers—but he doesn’t feel. He doesn’t feel the heat burning in his throat, the pressure on his chest as he slowly loses the ability to breathe. He doesn’t feel the glass, cutting through skin and bone. He doesn’t feel the blood, slick and wet, running down his forehead and into his eyes.

Here there is no pain. Here there is only nothing.

Out there is pain and darkness, fire and smoke. But out there is also Minhyuk. Out there is also the slight chance that Minhyuk is still alive—the slight chance that both of them are still alive.

And that’s the thing. That’s the thing that keeps him from slipping into the nothing. How easy it would be, to just let go. How easy it would be, to surrender, to sink into the soft safe nothing.

So he follows the voice. He runs and he crawls and he floats and he struggles. He fights the embrace, so comforting and warm. The voice changes, slowly, becoming a voice he is all too familiar with.

Low and raspy, the voice he hears every morning, not quite yet awake. The voice that softly whispers his name when he wakes up. The voice that whines when he’s hungry and yells when he’s mad. (Kihyun would often find him yelling at the computer)

The voice that tells him to come home.

The voice that begs him to come back to him.

He opens his eyes but still there is nothing. He wonders if is too late—did he not fight hard enough? Did he not run fast enough?

“Kihyun…!” The voice says, and he feels a trembling hand touch his face. He registers the pain—bright and loud and bitter, and he is definitely no longer in the nothing. He is in the out there, but his eyes have stayed behind. But he feels and smells and hears—and every sense screams pain.

He blacks out.

When he opens his eyes again, there is a speck of light in the nothing. Just a shimmer. It moves, nervously, from side to side, shooting forward as his eyelashes flutter.

He hears—beeps and whirring of machinery. The rustling of clothing. The drip drop of the IV. The soft buzzing of the TV, which is switched off but on standby. He hears Minhyuk rushing closer.

He smells—the unmistakable hospital smell. The clean sheets. Fresh flowers in a vase nearby. He smells Minhyuk. He smells like home.

He feels—the IV needle in his hand. The tubes in his nose, the mask over his mouth. His body feels numb. But not a bad numb. A pleasant numb. He feels a little pain—a reminder that he’s still alive. He feels Minhyuk’s hand on his.

He feels soft and warm and safe.

But not a nothing, no.

He is everything.

**Author's Note:**

> two fics in one day what even lol.  
> MORE KIHYUK.  
> MORE ANGST.  
> WHOOHOO!


End file.
